Our Minds Together
by Mischa21
Summary: An argument between Spock and McCoy leads to an intimate mind-meld. Spock/McCoy.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek: 2009.**

McCoy scowled at Kirk from where he stood across the Bridge. "My God, Jim. You can't just go down there. It could be a goddamn trap."

"Bones, it's no big deal. These people want to talk, that's all. There's no reason to panic."

McCoy scoffed. "The Federation has been arguing with the Klingons over this territory for months. Now there's a damn Klingon ship at the station. Things could've gotten hostile by now, we don't know."

"Bones, I love that you care so much, but I have to go. Spock and I will beam down together. We'll be back before you know it."

While McCoy was relieved that Jim wouldn't be alone, knowing the Vulcan would be his only companion wasn't much consolation, either. He'd feel much better going with them, but the interested party had requested the Captain and First Officer come alone.

Spock rose from his seat, turned to McCoy, and gave a slight nod. "There is no reason to believe we are in any danger. I assure you, Doctor, the Captain will be safe."

Yeah, because his assurance meant so much to McCoy. "He better be."

Kirk and Spock retreated to the transport room. McCoy headed back to Sickbay, resigned to do as he was told, no matter how much it bothered him. Truth be told, while he did have concern for his friend, Jim and Spock constantly running off together was taking some getting used to. And it wasn't going very well.

Things had been so much easier when it was just McCoy and Jim at the Academy. When pointy ears hadn't been a factor at all.

God, he missed those days.

When he arrived back at Sickbay, McCoy did his best to appear calm. Nurse Chapel approached him, her expression tentative. "Dr. McCoy, what is it?"

So much for pretending.

"That green-blooded hobgoblin is out of his Vulcan mind, that's what. He's gonna get himself killed, along with Captain Kirk, and then I'll be the one left to pick up the goddamn pieces."

"Commander Spock has always kept Captain Kirk safe in the past. You should give him more credit. He's a very…wise man." Her face flushed as she spoke, but McCoy paid no attention to that.

"He's not quite a man, though, is he?"

Nurse Chapel pressed her lips into a thin line. "We have patients to attend to, Doctor."

"Right you are," McCoy said, more than ready to lose himself in his work. When Spock and Kirk beamed aboard, he would have words with them. But until that time came, there was nothing else to do but wait.

Some time later, McCoy headed back to his quarters. At the last moment, he decided to detour to the transport room, and see if Scotty had heard back from Jim yet. But he didn't get more than a few steps before finding Spock in the corridor, alone.

"Where's Jim?" McCoy asked, stopping right in front of Spock. He half-expected the science officer to walk around him, but he stayed in place.

"He remained at the station to discuss the terms of the arrangement. It seems the party there is in need of having some goods transported and guarded. As I assured you, we are perfectly safe."

Relief flooded through McCoy, but only for a moment. After that, irritation bloomed in its place. "You could have at least pretended to be on my side."

The Vulcan's left eyebrow arched, as it so often did. "Actively supporting something I know to be wrong would be illogical."

_Know to be wrong?_ Screw him. McCoy was a doctor, goddamn it. It's not like Starfleet picked him up off the street. He knew his stuff.

Unfortunately, so did Spock. In fact, McCoy was beginning to think he knew a little too much.

"You know what I think? You're jealous of my friendship with Jim." Things were getting petty now, and McCoy damn well knew it. Still, he couldn't bring himself to shut up.

"Fascinating," Spock said, his eyebrows lifting. "You are projecting your own insecurities onto me. It's a concept I have never experienced."

"Yeah, because you wouldn't know what an emotion was if it hit you with a goddamn stick!"

"Fa—"

Something ruptured inside McCoy. "Damn it, Spock, if you say fascinating one more time, I'm gonna—"

"Your idle threats do not phase me, Doctor. Now, if you'll excuse me." Spock continued on to his own quarters.

Damn it. McCoy knew he should let it go, but he hated being cut off mid-argument. So he followed Spock into his quarters, fully expecting to be kicked out. Spock didn't really seem to mind, though. It was almost like he expected it.

Inside, Spock turned to face the Doctor. "As I said before, your insults have no affect on me. You are welcome to continue trying, if it satisfies your emotional needs."

"What the hell do you know of my needs?"

"Not very much, I must admit. They are illogical."

McCoy was sick of hearing about logic. Spock sure as hell was not logical—not to him, anyway. There had to be something that would get underneath his skin.

"What's it gonna take to make you feel something?" McCoy grabbed Spock's shoulders, his fingers digging through the textured material of his Starfleet uniform. The heat of Spock's skin was startling, but he would not allow it to affect him.

"You assume that I feel nothing."

"I know you don't." If Spock's attitude was anything to go by, the doctor was spot on. Except for that one incident on the Bridge, Spock had showed no signs of feeling much of anything. He had the emotional depth of…something with very little emotional depth.

"On the contrary, Doctor, I feel a great deal. However, unlike you, I am in control of my emotions."

Heat flared through McCoy's bloodstream. His fingers curled into a tight fist. It was a risk. Spock, being of superior strength and skill, could easily deflect the blow. But the temptation was too strong to resist. It was about time someone put that pointy-eared bastard in check.

Spock caught McCoy's hand in midair. A look of bemusement settled over his features. "If this is your attempt to prove control, it's not very effective."

"And what would you have me do?"

They were so close now. Close enough to hear each other's heartbeats. Close enough to lose control—McCoy was, anyway. Spock was still perfectly calm, to the point of irritation.

At least, that's what McCoy believed.

Spock dropped McCoy's hand, and reached toward him with his own. McCoy couldn't hold back the flinch that overtook him. He had no desire to become a heap of useless meat on the floor. The Vulcan nerve pinch would be quick, but his pride would take considerable time to recover.

"Injury is not my objective."

"What, then?"

"As you are constantly reminding me, I am only half-human. But that half is strong, Doctor. If you allow me to bring our minds together, I can give you the gratification you so desperately seek."

McCoy considered. While he didn't relish the thought of sharing such an intimate moment with Spock, he was interested in learning what secrets were stored in that mind of his. He swallowed. "All right. I'll give it a shot."

McCoy closed his eyes, right as Spock's fingertips pressed against his cheekbone. His touch was soft and gentle. So far, the mind-meld was not nearly as bad as McCoy had expected. He took a deep breath, and then—

* * *

"_He's a traitor, you know. Your father. For marrying that human whore."_

_Anger surged through Spock's veins, white-hot, and unlike anything he'd ever experienced. The air before him was red and palpable, moving in thick waves. He didn't think as he let out a scream, instead allowing his emotions to take control, for once._

_Spock's fists flew into the older Vulcan's face, again and again, until they both lie on the floor, bleeding. The rage continued to simmer inside Spock in a slow, controlled burn._

_It was too late to take it back, and he wasn't entirely sure he would have, had that been an option. Deep inside him, the craving continued. He pushed it away, like he knew he was supposed to, though a part of him wished he hadn't._

_The revenge had been sweet for a moment, but it wasn't enough. _

_It never would be._

* * *

_Spock stood outside the Katric Ark, the world crumbling around him. He flipped open his communicator. "Spock to Enterprise. Get us out _now_." _

_Panic skittered up and down his spine, engulfing him in its frenzy, but still, he maintained a calm appearance. They would get out in time. The statistical likelihood was not one hundred percent—it never was—but in his mind—no, in his _heart_—there was no other option. He had already managed to free most of the elders and his parents from the Ark, after all. _

_The beaming process had started. Escape was logical._

_His mother turned to face him. A sheer amount of desperation brewed in her eyes, along with fear. A small cry escaped her lips, and his grip on her faltered. _

_Seconds later, he stood on the transporter pad. His hand was still extended, but around his palm was nothing but air. _

_The room was silent, a thousand eyes boring straight into him, waiting. Expecting him to falter, hoping for it even. He stepped off the pad and did his best to compose himself. Yet in his chest, a black hole swirled, much like the one that had consumed his home planet. It sucked out the control he was so determined to maintain, leaving him utterly wrecked. _

_She was gone. It didn't seem possible, and yet, it was. The one person who understood him—often better than he understood himself. The one whose expectations he had never failed to meet. _

_She was just gone._

_There were so many things he wished he could have said. It was too late now, and there was nothing he could do to change that. _

_So he did the only thing he could. He left._

* * *

"_You never loved her!"_

_In his mind, Spock was once again on Vulcan, a child being berated for his emotions. Except this time, it was for having none, while before it had been for having too many. _

_No matter what he did, it was never right. Or so everyone else would have him believe._

_So, he did not hold back. Not this time. His mind a vortex, he threw punches left and right, aiming for injury and nothing less. His hands wrapped around Kirk's throat._

_He deserved this. They all did. _

_Before him, the life of James T. Kirk hung in the balance. But all Spock saw was static, rage. _

"_Spock!" His father's voice snapped him back to reality. _

_He had become emotionally compromised. And the worst part was, everyone knew it._

* * *

Spock released his hand from McCoy's face.

A sharp gasp emitted from the Doctor's throat. He stumbled backward, hitting the wall. He slid down into a sitting position on the floor, tucking his knees tightly against his chest. Violently, his shoulders jerked back and forth as he began to hyperventilate.

Spock kneeled before him. "Doctor McCoy."

No response. For the first time in his life, McCoy had no comment on the matter. Fascinating.

"Leonard," he tried again, careful to keep his tone soft.

Still nothing. McCoy's eyes were wide, but empty. He was in shock.

Spock extended his left index and middle fingers, gently tracing them over Leonard's. Inside the Doctor's mind was sheer anguish, though not his own. Transference.

Spock had done this to him. And for what? To put an end to the relentless arguing that he wasn't even sure he disliked?

Was it even worth it? He did not know.

A chill ran down Spock's spine. During his introspection, he had continued to trace his fingers over Leonard's. And now, the Doctor was returning the gesture. Spock stiffened, unsure if McCoy was aware of the gesture's meaning, and not entirely certain why he had started it in the first place. But the feeling of the other man's skin against his own, warm and slightly rough, felt too good to ignore.

"Doctor, are you all right?" he whispered, leaning forward.

McCoy lifted his head, meeting Spock's eyes with an intense gaze. Their faces were only inches apart now, and the tension between them was palpable. For the first time since Spock's planet was destroyed, he was almost…

Spock blinked. _I am in control of my emotions_, he reminded himself. He could not afford to slip, not again.

"I should go," McCoy whispered.

"Wait." Spock extended his hand, but the Doctor brushed right past him.

It was too late for second-guessing. He had missed his shot. Any other time, the Vulcan would have found peace in his solitude, but for some reason, he was unsettled.

Spock leaned back against the wall. He had never felt so alone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek: 2009. **

Bones leaned against the wall in his quarters. He hadn't slept since his encounter with Spock. Not for lack of trying, but every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was Spock and everything he had experienced. His own chest still ached with the pain of the loss the Vulcan had suffered. He wasn't sure how to make it stop. The effects of the mind-meld surely should have worn off by now, a thought that terrified him to his very core. It was one thing to share Spock's feelings. If the emotions that lingered were his own, well, he wasn't sure how to deal with that.

Things had been so much easier before, when they were black and white. When he knew he didn't like Spock and that was that. Goddamn it.

He stood up, weary and ready for a change of scenery. It was time for shore leave, which coincidentally, meant it was time to start drinking. That would be a welcome change of pace.

Bones had barely slipped into the hallway when Jim cornered him. "Oh, good, I found you."

"What is it?"

"I need a favor." Kirk flashed McCoy an award-winning smile, but he was having none of it. Not today.

"Jim, the last time I did you a favor—"

Kirk clapped his hand over the Doctor's mouth, his eyes growing wide. "I thought we agreed never to speak of that again."

McCoy wrenched away from him. "Well, they're still talking about it on Wrigley's Pleasure Planet. A lot."

"Shut up, Bones. That's an order. Now, are you going to help me, or not?"

"Do I really have a choice?"

"No."

"Fine, but you owe me one." Kirk owed him a lot, actually, now that he thought about it. He needed a ledger, or something, to keep track. "What is it?"

"It's Spock. He's been acting strange lately."

"Lately?" McCoy muttered. For once, though, his tone held no trace of bitterness.

"That's it? You're not going to make any snide remarks?"

"That green-blooded pain in the ass is always acting strange, Jim." The insult fell flat on his tongue, his exhaustion too great to care about putting Spock down. He did, however, have a reputation to uphold. Wouldn't want anyone to think _he_ was acting strange. "So, what, you want me to examine him?"

Christ, that didn't come out right. Or maybe it did, he really wasn't sure. Jim had no reason to find double meaning in an otherwise innocent statement. McCoy was paranoid, that's all.

"Look, I was thinking maybe you could keep an eye on him during shore leave."

"Damn it, Jim, I'm a doctor, not a babysitter!"

"I know, I know." Kirk rubbed a hand over his face. "But if I let him go off on his own, he's liable to do nothing but work."

"How is that my problem?"

"It's not healthy, Bones. He's barely set foot off this ship in weeks. Besides, you've got no idea what it's like, having two best friends that can't stand each other. Well, I'll tell you—it's irritating."

"The hell I don't know about irritation," McCoy said. "I've got you, don't I?"

"Very funny. So you'll do it?"

McCoy took a deep breath. He hadn't even had time to process what the hell had gone on the night before, let alone how he felt about it. Spending more time with Spock would only add to his confusion. "If you're so worried, why don't you go with him?"

"There's this girl…"

Well that figured. They'd been here for one damn day, most of that devoted to work, and he had a goddamn date already. McCoy couldn't even remember how long it'd been since he'd made plans that didn't include Jim. Too long, that was for sure.

"Come on, Bones. Do it for me. Who knows, you might even find you like the guy."

That was the problem. But maybe he would find that the night before had been a fluke. Hell, it had to have been. The things he felt could be chalked up as effects of the mind-meld and nothing more. Right?

Sure, okay.

All McCoy needed to do was have some drinks, throw out a few well-placed insults, and things would go right back to how they were before. How they were supposed to be. "You owe me."

"Absolutely. Whatever you want, Bones, it's yours."

At least there was an upside to this mess. "Tell Spock I'll meet him in the transport room. And I want my weight in Romulan ale."

Kirk winced, causing McCoy's lips to stretch into a half-smile. If he was going to do Jim a favor, he sure as hell was going to make it worth it. If anything, drinking his weight in Romulan ale would erase any angst he might suffer, assuming this didn't blow over. Definitely worth it.

* * *

In the transport room, the crew had gathered together to beam down for shore leave.

"I'd really prefer to catch up on my training manuals," Scotty was saying to Kirk.

Looked like Spock wasn't the only workaholic aboard this ship. Personally, McCoy was looking forward to having a stiff drink and setting foot on solid ground for a while.

"Sorry, Scotty, but everyone has to go," Jim replied. "No exceptions."

Scotty let out a sigh. "Well, a glass of Scotch does sound agreeable."

"And vodka," Chekov chimed in, mispronouncing the v, as per usual.

"About that." Kirk stepped on the transporter pad. "I expect everyone to have a good time and relax without making a scene." He trained an eye on Scotty and Chekov. "You two in particular. Even if someone insults me."

Chekov cast his eyes toward the ground, giving a sheepish nod. The crew had yet to let him live down the events of their last shore leave.

"Aye, sir." Scotty nodded. "If someone insults the Enterprise, though—well, that's a whole other story."

Jim's face twisted, as though he were trying very hard not to grin. "I'd expect nothing less, Mr. Scott."

McCoy tapped his foot on the edge of the pad. "We get it, Jim. Now, where's Spock? I don't have all night, you know."

"I am right here, Doctor."

McCoy glanced behind him. Spock stood in the doorway, stoic as ever. "About damn time."

"I was told to meet you in the transport room, which I have. A time was never specified."

"Are we ready for transport, sir?" Scotty asked, his eyes darting between Bones and Spock.

"Great of you to ask, Scotty. We are ready." Jim flashed a look of warning to McCoy, who merely shook his head. He wasn't the one holding them up.

Spock, immune to the wordless bickering, stepped onto the pad. "Energize."

A moment later, they were gone.

* * *

The bar was crowded. Not the point of claustrophobia but busy, to say the least. The crew immediately split up, with a promise to be back on the Enterprise by morning.

Within seconds, Spock and McCoy were the only ones left standing by the door.

"Doctor, while I appreciate your efforts to assist me, they are not necessary." Spock took a step back.

"Oh, no you don't." Seizing his wrist, McCoy pulled him toward the bar. "I told Jim we'd stay together, and that's exactly what we're gonna do. Don't worry, I don't much like it either."

"If this arrangement is not agreeable to you, why do you insist on abiding by it?"

It was a reasonable question. Spending time with someone you didn't like wasn't logical, after all. But McCoy had made a promise to Jim. Even more than that, he needed to see for himself if the feelings he'd been flooded with the night before were truly his own.

Fingertips suddenly hot, Leonard's pulse sped up as he remembered he was still holding Spock's wrist. Damn it. Maybe transference wasn't to blame after all.

"Come on." He dropped the Vulcan's wrist and started toward the bar. Spock followed at his side, his fingertips grazing McCoy's as they navigated the crowded space. Tiny crackles of electricity flowed between the two, and the bar suddenly felt very small.

"Hey, Doc," the waitress said with a smile at the sight of McCoy. "Haven't see you in a while. What'll it be, sugar?"

"The usual." He glanced at Spock. "And something that really _hops_ for my _Vulcan_ friend here."

The edges of her lips tugged into a smile. "I've got just the thing."

Spock's eyebrows knit together. "I do not drink, Doctor."

"Maybe you should start."

"Alcohol is of little interest to me."

"It's shore leave, Spock. Inebriation is mandatory." McCoy nodded to the waitress once more. "Make it a double. For both of us."

"No problem. I'll be right over."

The unlikely duo found a table in the far corner of the room, where it was dark and somewhat quiet. McCoy took the seat that faced away from the bar, while Spock chose to observe the other patrons while they drank. Within seconds of situating themselves, the waitress returned with their order—a mint julep for the doctor and a grasshopper for the science officer.

"Let me know if you need anything else."

McCoy threw back his drink, the knot inside his chest releasing almost instantly. "Tastes like home."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "I was not aware one's home had a taste."

"You know what I mean." Except, he really didn't. God, this would be so much easier if his companion was human. At least then he wouldn't feel the need to spell out every single thing he experienced. Hell, he wouldn't be in this predicament if Spock were human. "Aren't you gonna try yours?"

Spock continued to stare at the bright green concoction in his glass. "I do not understand. Is this supposed to be a comment on my race?"

McCoy couldn't stop the grin that spread across his face. The color of the grasshopper hadn't even occurred to him while placing the order. He was simply operating on a rumor he'd heard regarding Vulcan inebriation. "Try it. You might like it."

Eyebrows raised, Spock took a sip. "Fascinating. The taste is better than expected."

"So you like it?" It was often hard to tell with him.

"I do not dislike it."

Three drinks later, it became apparent that Spock did, in fact, like the grasshopper. And McCoy loved mint juleps. Oh, did he ever.

The waitress had just brought them another round when a heavy man in an overcoat approached their table, cradling a ball of fluff in the crook of his left arm. "Can I interest you in a sweet, adorable tribble?"

"No," Spock said automatically.

"God, no," McCoy added before taking a sip of his drink. "Hell no."

"Come on, now," the man continued, "they're the cutest things you'll ever see."

"Damn it, man, we said no!"

Still, the intruder did not leave. He turned to Spock, a sly grin playing on his lips. "Something to warm your Vulcan heart, perhaps?"

Without even blinking, Spock reached up and nerve-pinched the man. He fell to the ground with a thud. The tribble let out a soft squeak. Around them, the patrons of the bar let out a cheer.

"Damn annoying things, those tribbles." Bones finished off what little was left of his julep.

"Indeed." Spock raised his own glass, swigging the dregs of the lime green liquid. "If a companion that drains all your resources while offering nothing in return is your main objective, a human mate would be more logical. At least then you can guarantee they won't reproduce at the speed of light."

McCoy couldn't hold back the laugh that escaped him, loud enough to rumble over the noise in the establishment. So Spock did have a sense of humor. Good to know.

Across the table, Spock's face grew pale. He set down his glass, fixing his eyes on the worn wooden tabletop. "Perhaps we should take our leave now."

Confused, McCoy turned to survey the room. Lieutenant Uhura leaned over the bar, her tiny miniskirt riding up to expose the backs of her thighs. Next to her was a man that could only be described as ruggedly handsome. He tucked a stray lock of hair back into her ponytail and raised his hand to the bartender.

"Something wrong?" McCoy had a pretty good idea of what was going on, but he wanted to hear it from Spock directly. It was the only way to know for sure.

"As I'm sure you know, Lieutenant Uhura and I had a … relationship." Spock's tone was decidedly clipped. Still, McCoy could read between the lines.

"Had being the keyword there."

"Precisely."

Leonard grinned. "Fascinating."

Spock's eyebrows furrowed together. "I believe that is usually my line, Doctor."

So Spock wanted to avoid his ex. Well, McCoy could certainly relate. He stood and gestured for the Vulcan to do the same. "I think we've found some common ground, Mr. Spock."

Those feelings had been his own, for sure. No amount of transference could last this long, or remain this intense. And maybe it was the juleps talking, but right here, right now, in this instant, McCoy had lost the urge to fight his feelings.

* * *

The hotel room would never get a five star rating, but it wasn't dismal either. Spock couldn't help but notice there was only one bed, though— a rather large one at that. His head felt fuzzier than usual, his limbs slightly unsteady, and he wondered what exactly he had gotten himself into. One thing was certain: he would not be alone tonight. This brought him both immense relief and deep satisfaction. However, nerves were also a factor.

"It would have simpler to beam back aboard the ship," he pointed out, still standing by the door.

McCoy sat down on the edge of the bed and stripped off his shirt. "Maybe, but there's something nice about sleeping in an unfamiliar place. It's exciting. We spend enough time living on that damn ship. Might as well take advantage of having other options."

Spock nodded, but remained silent.

"I can't believe I'm about to say this, but I've been a dick to you, and I wanna apologize for that. The things you've been through, well, I couldn't have even begun to imagine how they felt."

"I shouldn't have forced my own issues upon you, Doctor." Spock took a step toward the bed.

"You didn't force anything on me. Besides, I had it coming."

Spock raised an eyebrow at the Doctor's sudden candor. Perhaps there was something to be said for intoxication. "You were in so much pain last night. I feared I had destroyed something inside you."

McCoy shook his head. "If anything, I'm seeing more clearly now." Reaching out, he threaded his fingers through Spock's. "Jim was right. I've never given you a fair chance before."

"You are drunk, Leonard," Spock said. It was the reasonable thing to say, but it pained him to think this moment could be contrived, that it may not last. He had lost so much already, was it too much to ask to keep this one thing for himself?

"Definitely. Doesn't make this any less real, though." His inhibitions were obviously lowered. Though in Spock's experience, mostly through observation, that didn't necessarily mean this was a false confession. It could simply be that the alcohol had forced the truth from Leonard without giving him a chance to second-guess what he was saying. One could only hope.

Swallowing, Spock disentangled his hand from Leonard's grasp. "These feelings I have for you are not logical."

McCoy stood up and closed the distance between them. "Screw logic."

And then the unthinkable happened. Lacing his fingers around the back of Spock's skull, Leonard crushed his lips to his.

The intensity of the kiss caught Spock off guard. There was unimaginable heat flowing between them, as well as pulsing through his veins. He returned the kiss, no longer worried about logic, or anything else for that matter. This was all he needed.

The void inside his chest began to fill. He broke away from Leonard long enough to pull off his own shirt, and then pressed against him once more. As long as they were touching, nothing could be wrong.

Leonard spun him around, pushed him up against the wall. His lips trailed across Spock's shoulder blades. Shivering, Spock reached back to tangle his hand in McCoy's hair as he arched his back.

Spock's eyes fell shut, his defenses lowering, and there were no more secrets between them. Conflict warred in McCoy's mind, woven together with more wanting than seemed possible for a single person to contain.

None of that mattered right now. Details were irrelevant. They were together, and that was enough.


	3. Chapter 3

Spock awoke to the loudest noise he had ever heard, or so it seemed at the time. Stifling a yawn, he grabbed his communicator. "Spock here."

"Where are you guys?" Kirk asked. "Everyone else got back hours ago and it's almost time to leave."

Oversleeping was not a trait Spock was known for, that was certain. But he wasn't about to divulge the details of the tryst in which he had participated, either. "My apologies. Dr. McCoy and I…" He glanced over to where Leonard still slept beside him. Lying was also not a trait he was known for, but once again, details were not of importance at the moment. "We were detained."

"Did you spend the night with those Orion chicks I saw at the bar, or something?"

"Or something." Implying might have lying in it, but it was not the same. At least, that's what he told himself.

"Wow, Spock, I didn't realize you had it in you. One-night stands don't seem very logical."

Kirk was right about that. Low impulse control wasn't logical either, but here he was. Here they were, to be precise. "We will be along momentarily. Spock out."

Spock set down the communicator, unsure of how he would wake his companion. While it was not the first time he had awoken next to someone, casual sex wasn't his forte. Perhaps there was a protocol of which he was not aware. "Doctor?"

Leonard's eyelids fluttered open. "Is it morning already?"

"The Captain has requested we return to the Enterprise at once. We are running quite late."

"Mmm." McCoy sat up and stretched. Rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand, he squinted at Spock through splayed fingers. "That was an experience."

"A somewhat new one for me," Spock admitted.

McCoy scoffed. "Come off it. I know you were banging Uhura."

"Banging?" The term was both unfamiliar and quite crass.

"You know, making the beast with two backs. Doing the dance with no pants. Satisfying your biological needs."

"I am well aware of what you were referring to, Doctor. I simply had never heard that particular word used before."

"Oh. But you had done it before, right?"

"My virtue was not intact last night, if that's what you mean."

"Good." McCoy stood up and started getting dressed. "Vulcan virginity theft isn't something I want on my conscience."

"I was not aware you had one."

McCoy gave a dry laugh. "Look at you, being all cute and funny."

"Contrary to popular belief, Doctor, I do, in fact, have a human half, which includes a sense of humor." At times this trait was unfortunate, but at others, it proved useful.

"Stop calling me Doctor. We know each other now."

"We were acquainted before."

The corner of Leonard's mouth twitched. "Not like this."

That much was true. Spock pulled his Starfleet uniform on. "Shall we go now?"

"Yeah, I suppose we should." There was a trace of something lingering in Leonard's voice. Spock couldn't quite place it. He imagined it was somewhere between regret and desire on the emotional scale. It was fascinating how those two emotions were often intertwined.

"Spock to Enterprise. Two to beam up."

Right before they dematerialized, Spock gave the small room a fleeting glance. He wanted to remember all the details, just in case. Because even if Leonard changed his mind about what happened, once the last traces of liquor left his system, then at least Spock would still have this moment.

On the Bridge, anticipation and curiosity flowed off Captain Kirk in waves. "So, tell me what happened," he urged when Spock approached.

"Jim, a human phrase springs to mind. I believe it is something along the lines of 'I don't kiss and tell'." Spock clasped his hands behind his back.

"This is what friends do, Spock. They tell each other things. I'm not asking you to paint me a picture, or anything. Just give me a few highlights."

Spock raised his eyebrows. "It's as I said before. We had some drinks, and then we left. There was much banging to be had."

Suddenly overcome with a fit of coughing, Jim's eyes widened. "Did you just say banging?"

"Did I not use the word correctly?"

"Oh, you did. I just never expected to hear you say it. You're full of surprises lately."

He didn't even know the half of it. And he never would, either, as far as Spock was concerned. The friendly interrogation drew to a close soon after, but Spock couldn't help but wonder if Jim would ask Leonard similar questions, and what, exactly, his answer would be.

* * *

Down in Sickbay, Leonard McCoy's focus was slipping. Every time he so much as blinked, vivid images of the night before raced through his mind. His skin flushed with each thought, a whoosh of excitement rushing through his stomach. He could still feel Spock's fingertips grazing his shoulders and neck. His lips were still warm with the memory of the kisses they had shared.

God, it had been so good. At the time it was happening, he'd tried to convince himself it was the alcohol talking, and nothing more. Yet here he was, completely sober, and fantasizing about it.

The line between love and hate had blurred last night, and now he felt no hate for Spock at all. He wasn't sure he ever had, really. Frustration, annoyance, irritation? Absolutely. All those things combined had only made their time together that much sweeter, though.

Before, Leonard would often spend time thinking up insults to throw at the Vulcan. None came to mind at the moment. Hell, maybe next time Spock picked a fight with him—if he even tried—Leonard would just shut him up with a kiss. It wasn't a bad idea.

"Someone's in a good mood." Christine Chapel's voice snapped McCoy away from his daydreams. "You're humming, Doctor."

Was he? He cleared his throat. "I didn't realize. I was just—"

She held up a hand. "No, it's good. It's nice to see you lighten up a bit." She flashed him a sly grin. "Who's the lucky girl?"

His mouth opened but no words came out.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize. Let me rephrase. Who's the lucky guy?"

A slight flush appeared on his cheeks. "That's a very personal question."

"All right, a man of mystery, then. That's fine." Her grin widened. "Don't be afraid to have fun, Doctor."

Christine slipped away, leaving McCoy alone to process her comments. Before he had the chance, though, Kirk strode in, pinching the bridge of his nose. "My head is killing me."

McCoy chuckled. "Long night?"

"That's putting it lightly. I heard you had some fun, too." He winked.

Leonard's eyes nearly popped out of his skull. "What?" If he'd spent the night with Jim, he'd fully expect half the crew to know all the sordid details, but Spock wasn't a gossip. Not usually, anyway. Then again, Spock had been a lot of things last night, none of them typical.

"Well, he didn't say much, but Spock certainly alluded to you two have some good times."

Someone really needed to teach Spock how to lie, like yesterday. "My God, what the hell happened to discretion? Is it too much to ask to keep my private life private?"

Kirk slapped him on the back. "Come on, now. No need to be shy. It's nothing I haven't done before."

"It's not?" That explained a lot. Sure, McCoy knew Kirk and Spock were close, and there had certainly been whispers among the crew of their alleged intimacy, but he'd thought they were only rumors. You learn something new every day.

"Of course not. You met Gaila. I know it's been a while for you, but I'm not dumb, Bones. You're no prude."

Okay, what? "What exactly did Spock tell you?"

Jim shrugged. "Well, it's not like he drew me a diagram. He gave me the basics, that's all."

"Damn it, Jim, I need exact words."

"Okay, he said you left with some girls."

Bones couldn't stop his lips from stretching into a smile. He really should give Spock more credit. "Yeah, that's pretty much it."

"And?"

"And nothing."

Jim groaned. "Come on, I tell you everything."

"Yeah, well, sometimes I wish you wouldn't."

"Fine." Kirk made a face, but his eyes sparkled with amusement nonetheless. "I got that Romulan ale, by the way."

McCoy raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really?" While his request had been serious, he'd half-expected his friend to make some excuse as to why he was unable to follow through—the legality of the situation, for example. Maybe he'd grown cynical in recent years, but everyone was surprising the good doctor today. "How'd you manage it?"

"The girl I was with last night knows this guy, who knows this other guy, who used to date this girl who—"

"All right, I get the picture."

"Anyway, I'll bring it by later tonight," Jim continued. "I figured we could have a drink together. You know what they say about drinking alone, after all."

"Who said I'd be alone?" It took all of his willpower to keep a straight face.

"You smuggle someone aboard, Bones?"

"Wouldn't you like to know." All this talk had him itching to find Spock, see how the night before had affected the Vulcan, and potentially make plans for an encore. "Excuse me."

"What about my headache?" Kirk called after him.

McCoy dismissed him with a wave of his hand. Christine could take care of that. Right now, he had more important things to attend to.

Spock was easy to locate, in his usual place on the Bridge. The other members of the crew were likewise working, and no one paid too much attention to McCoy as he strode toward Spock. He leaned over, placed his lips a mere centimeter away from the skin of the Vulcan's pointy ear, and whispered, "Got a minute?"

If their proximity affected Spock, he did not let it be known. "I'm working, Doctor."

"I thought I told you not to call me that anymore."

"It is your official title, and as we are currently on duty, it is appropriate. Now, if you'll excuse me, I am needed in Engineering."

McCoy straightened up. "What a coincidence. I was headed there, myself." Like hell he was. Still, he wanted a few moments alone with Spock, and if this is how he'd get them, fine.

Inside the turbolift, it was everything Leonard could do to keep from crushing his lips to Spock's once more. God, he had wasted so much time already, stressing over these feelings and whether or not they made sense, if he even wanted them. He couldn't afford to wait a second longer. Happiness didn't come easily, not to him, anyway. He wanted this—no, _needed_ it—of that he was suddenly certain.

He stopped the turbolift, despite the fact that it royally pissed him off when anyone else did, and turned to Spock. "Last night was—"

"Illogical?"

Leonard's eyebrows screwed together. He took a step closer to Spock, the space between them simultaneously enormous and claustrophobic. "I was going to say great, but if you're giving me the brush off, then I can just go."

"No, Leonard, I am not, as you say, 'giving you the brush off.' My comment about going to Engineering was true."

"They can wait." He traced a fingertip down the side of Spock's throat. Spock shivered, ever so slightly, sending a ripple of pleasure down McCoy's spine.

"Yes, I believe they can."

"So I'm not alone with these feelings?"

There was a pause, and then Spock shook his head so fast, McCoy damn near missed it. No one ever said this would be easy. Still, this reaction, however muted it may be, was enough to make him smile. For the first time in so very long, he was wanted. And that felt pretty damn good.

The privacy too tempting to resist, Leonard closed the distance between them. He brushed his lips over Spock's, everything else falling straight out of his mind.

"Our absence will be noted," Spock said when they broke apart, much sooner than McCoy would have liked. "Perhaps we can continue this at a later time?"

"Come see me tonight."

"As you wish." Spock restarted the turbolift, straightening up against the wall. His expression was void of any emotion, for the most part. The edges of lips twitched, although it was nearly imperceptible. McCoy, however, prided himself on the observation of others. That skill was proving to be valuable, that was for sure.

The two parted ways when they arrived at the Engineering Deck, but not for long. Tonight couldn't come soon enough.

* * *

Leonard had barely reached his quarters when Spock arrived. "Hey, come in."

Hands clasped, Spock entered the room. He paused in the center, his eyes darting around like lasers. It took much coaxing, but eventually, Leonard was able to get him to perch on the edge of the bed. He slipped an arm around Spock's shoulders. "You're not having second thoughts are you?"

"No." Spock took a deep breath, relaxing slightly into McCoy's touch. "I am not. But I must warn you, it's been some time since I was in a relationship, and suffice to say, it wasn't something I excelled at."

No one else could make self-consciousness look so damn attractive. "However long it's been for you, I can assure you it's been at least double that for me. And, judging by the fact that you and Uhura have managed to stay on this ship without killing each other, I'd say your split was a thousand times more amicable than my divorce."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "I didn't realize it was a contest."

"It's not." Leonard rubbed his thumb across Spock's cheekbone. "I just want you to know that I get it. You're not alone."

Spock wove his fingers through McCoy's hair, gently pulling it in a way that made him crazy in the best sense of the word. "That is good to hear."

"So you don't regret last night, then?" Leonard whispered as their lips drew closer.

"I do not," Spock replied. "While my feelings for you are difficult to comprehend, I have come to the conclusion that I should not try to."

"Sometimes you just gotta go with what feels right."

"Precisely."

Their lips pressed together, tentative at first. Eyes closed, Leonard deepened the kiss, memorizing the sensation of Spock's lips pressed against his own. His fingertips trailed down the side of Spock's neck, traced over his collarbone before dipping beneath the hem of his shirt.

Leonard broke the kiss long enough to whisper, "If we keep going, I'm not gonna be able to stop."

"I do not recall asking you to." Furthering his response, Spock stretched out on the bed, pulling Leonard down with him.

All right, then. He slid onto the floor, and continued pushing up Spock's shirt, exposing his lean stomach. Then he pressed his lips Spock's bare skin, ran his teeth over his hipbones that peeked over the waistband of his pants. He was lost in the moment, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

"Hey, Bones, I—what in the hell is going on here?"

Goddamn it. In all the excitement, McCoy's plans with Jim had completely slipped his mind. He rolled off Spock, and forced himself to sit up. Jim stood frozen before him, clutching a blue bottle. A look of utter bewilderment was etched onto his features.

"Jim," McCoy wasn't sure how to explain this one, so he settled on the unfiltered truth. "This is exactly what it looks like."

Kirk nodded slowly. "Wait, so you didn't go home with those Orion girls?"

It was Spock's turn to respond. He too sat up, but his expression was stoic. "No, we did not."

Jim set the bottle down, and backed away. "I should go."

"Yes, I believe you should," Spock said.

It didn't take any more coaxing than that. Seconds later, they were alone, once again.

"Talk about a buzz kill." McCoy ran a hand through his hair. "It's only a matter of hours before everyone and their brother knows about this. They'll be talking up a storm, I imagine."

Spock did not seem particularly bothered by this statement. "So let them. Gossip is only as powerful as you allow it to be."

He made a good point. Besides, it wouldn't be long before another scandal broke out, and then it wouldn't matter anyway. Sure, things would be awkward with Jim for a while, but McCoy was used to that. Being friends with Jim came with its fair share of insanity. It was about time he got to be on the other side.

He kissed Spock again, and everything else ceased to matter.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I still do not own Star Trek. **

**A/N: A thousand thank yous to everyone who has reviewed this story, and added it to their favorites and/or alerts. You are all awesome!**

* * *

Spock carefully climbed out of bed, doing his best not to disturb McCoy. It was well into the delta shift, several hours before he was expected to report to the Bridge. From the moment Jim had left the two alone, Spock had begun calculating the prime moment to exit without being seen. Of course, he could not entirely escape a few witnesses, but leaving now would at least ensure the number of people to see him would be insignificant. Without visual confirmation that he'd spent the night with the Doctor, the rest of the crew would soon forget any comments Kirk made on the matter. Or so he hoped.

"Hey, now." Leonard sat up, reaching out for Spock. "Don't leave just yet. I'm not finished with you." He tugged Spock back down on the bed, and pressed his lips to the side of Spock's neck.

Spock sighed. His skin tingled where Leonard's lips were fixated. "This is the optimum time to depart without being noticed."

"A few minutes longer won't hurt."

"That depends on what definition of hurt you are using."

Leonard kissed the tips of his fingers. "All right. I'll see you later?"

"Of course." Spock leaned over, gently brushed his lips over Leonard's. "Until then."

Standing, Spock straightened his shirt, and exited the room. He was not expecting to walk into a group of people, but that's precisely what happened.

They were bundled together, spectators to his scandalous behavior. At least two dozen of them, if not more. They turned to each other quickly, pretending to act casual. He could hear their whispers, though; as they commented on the particular room he had left.

Spock took a deep breath, and made his way through the crowd, which parted for him. He kept his gaze locked in front of him as he made his way to his own quarters, not daring to give the onlookers so much as a second glance.

Once he reached his destination, he immediately sat cross-legged on the floor, and took a series of deep breaths. A sense of serenity soon fell over him, but uncertainty continued to tug at the edges of his mind.

He had not anticipated this particular turn of events. Part of the reason why he'd felt so comfortable embarking in a relationship with Leonard was the Doctor's respect for privacy. Spock had known there was a chance of others finding out, however, he had not expected it to happen so soon.

Whether or not this changed things for him was yet to be decided. His need for companionship had been momentarily fulfilled, but at what price? And was it worth giving up? These questions were reasonable, but he was no closer to discovering the answers than when he'd sat down.

Taking another deep breath, Spock decided he would take his own advice on the matter, and ignore the rumors. For now, at least.

* * *

Nurse Chapel was waiting when McCoy arrived in Sickbay, but she was all business. She didn't so much as raise an eyebrow at him. Apparently, the grapevine had not yet reached her. Or maybe she was one of the few people on this ship with a sense of decency. One could only hope.

"You have a patient, Doctor," she greeted.

His eyebrows knit together. "Anything fatal?"

Shaking her head, she took a step closer, and lowered her voice. "It's Mr. Scott. He specifically requested you handle his case with discretion. His illness is of an, shall we say, intimate nature."

"Again? Good God. Some people never learn."

"It's not our place to judge, Doctor." Christine pointed to the exam room Scotty was currently occupying. "Everyone makes mistakes."

Repeatedly, it seemed.

McCoy grabbed the hypo he needed, and went into the exam room. He shot the engineer an amused glance. "Shore leave?"

A faint blush settled over Scotty's face. "Aye."

"My God, man. You've gotta learn to use protection."

"I know, Doctor. It's all that Scotch I've been drinking. Goes straight to my head. Still, I'll try not to let it happen again."

"No worries, Scotty. You're not the only one who's slipped up. Happens to the best of us."

Scotty grinned. "Some more recently than others, from what I've been hearing lately."

McCoy stuck the hypo through Scotty's sleeve, using a bit more pressure than warranted. "You can't believe everything you hear."

"If you say so." His grin didn't falter.

McCoy cleared his throat. "You're good to go. Next time, though, maybe try for alcohol poisoning, or a broken nose. Shake things up a bit."

Scotty laughed. "Aye. I'll see what I can do."

Scotty left after that, but McCoy stayed in the exam room for a minute longer. Hopefully Nurse Chapel wasn't chatting the engineer up right now, because he wasn't sure he could handle working an entire shift with her in the know about him and Spock. She'd been relatively casual during their conversation yesterday, but that was before the entire goddamn ship had found out.

Oh God. He could only imagine what the busier parts of the ship sounded like right now. It figured, he got together with the least social person on the Enterprise, and word still got out.

At least Spock would handle this logically, instead of spinning out of control over it. McCoy only hoped the Vulcan didn't get spooked by the sudden public nature of their relationship. They had started to find their rhythm, too. He should have known nothing that good could last.

Damn it. This wasn't what he'd signed up for. But hell if he was going to push Spock aside over it. No, he'd spent far too long alone. This was his shot at happiness, and he wasn't willing to let it simply pass him by.

One thing was for sure, though: McCoy was going to kill Jim.

* * *

Spock stepped onto the Bridge in a wave of calm. A thousand eyes locked on him, darting around with curiosity and excitement.

"Hello, _Commander_," Sulu said, a strange musical quality taking over his tone. The corner of his mouth stretched up like a quotation mark. "I trust you slept well?"

"It was adequate," Spock answered, his tone clipped.

A short burst of laughter emitted from Chekov. "That's all?"

Kirk glared at the crew. "Let's all give Mr. Spock some space."

Spock paid no attention to them. Instead, his focused drifted over to the communications station, where Uhura sat. The emotion swirling through her dark eyes was hard to pinpoint, her mouth pressed into a thin line. She stood and walked over to Kirk. "Permission to report to Sickbay, sir?"

A look of worry settled over Jim's face. He dropped his voice to a mere whisper, but his words did not escape Spock's ears. "Does this have anything to do with shore leave?"

"It's nothing to be concerned about," she said, picking at the sleeve of her dress. "I'll try not to be long."

Thirty-three minutes later, she had still not returned. Spock tried to put the situation out of his mind, but no one else gave him the same courtesy. Their comments grew more direct, until he decided it was time to leave.

Spock entered the turbolift, unsure of whether he was going down to Sickbay to assess the situation with Uhura and McCoy, or somewhere else entirely.

"Hey, Spock, wait up!" Kirk called.

Spock held the door, despite feeling as though he should run and hide. "Captain."

Edging inside the turbolift, Jim gave Spock a sideways glance. "Are you pissed? Oh God. You are, aren't you?"

"Jim, would you be upset if you were in my situation?"

"God, Spock, I'm so sorry. I don't know how so many people found out."

Spock raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, that's not true. I told Sulu last night, but I swear, it was supposed to be in confidence. I made him promise not to say anything."

"He clearly did not listen."

"Yeah." Jim raked a hand through his hair. "He told Chekov, who told Scotty, who told Uhura, and hell, I don't know who she told, but you have to know I didn't mean for it to get so out of hand."

"Then why did you say anything at all?"

"Because…" Jim took a deep breath. "Look, I was really freaked out, okay? Last week, I practically had to force you and Bones to be in a room together, and now you're kissing! That's a bit of a jump. And you can't tell me that you wouldn't have been at least a tiny bit disturbed if you'd walked in on me and Bones _in flagrante_."

"I would have surmised that you had not told me about your relationship because you desired to keep it private. That would be the logical inference."

"There was nothing logical about what I saw last night."

The turbolift stopped. Relief like he had never felt soared through Spock. "Excuse me."

"Where are you going?" Kirk asked as Spock stepped out.

"Someplace where I do not have to talk too much."

* * *

At his desk, McCoy tapped his fingers across his PADD, stifling a yawn. Filing reports was a necessary evil, but it didn't make it any less evil. There were about six million things he'd rather be doing at the moment, not a single one of them involving sitting in this chair.

Well, maybe a few scenarios involved the chair. But he sure as hell wasn't working in any of them.

He momentarily set the PADD aside, letting his thoughts travel to the Bridge. He couldn't help but wonder what was going on up there, and how Spock was handling it. McCoy had already been subjected to numerous stares, never mind Scotty's less than subtle comment. He almost preferred that to the silence, though. At least then he'd felt justified with his irritation.

Damn Jim and his big mouth. McCoy had a few ideas for how to deal with him, all of them involving jamming a hypo straight into his goddamn neck.

"Doctor McCoy, do you have a moment?" The soft voice of Lieutenant Uhura snapped McCoy out of his internal musings.

"Not feeling well, Uhura?" He raised an eyebrow. "Was it shore leave?" Scotty had been one thing, but now Uhura, too? Goddamn. Something about beaming down to an unfamiliar place full of strangers and alcohol made people think they were invincible. Not that McCoy knew anything about that. Not at all.

Uhura sat down across from him, drumming her nails across the smooth desktop. "I'm fine. I'm here to discuss a personal matter."

"I'm a surgeon, not a psychiatrist," he said. "If you need advice, go to Nurse Chapel." He picked the PADD back up, resigned to finish his work. Compared to having a heart-to-heart with Uhura, filing reports actually sounded somewhat desirable.

Uhura sighed, muttering something under her breath about men and how ridiculous they all were. "I didn't come here to get advice, Doctor. I came here to give some to you."

"That's bold of you."

"You'll thank me later." Her tone held a steely edge now. "When I heard the rumors about you and Spock, I didn't buy it for a second."

"You can't believe everything you hear." God, if he took a shot every time he felt the need to say those words today, he'd probably be dead of alcohol poisoning by the end of his shift.

"That's exactly what I told myself. Then I saw him leave your quarters."

McCoy set the PADD aside, and leaned across the desk. "Is there a point to any of this?" He narrowed his eyes. "Are you still hung up on him?"

Her expression softened. "No, Doctor. Our split was fairly amicable, insomuch as any breakup can be."

"I wouldn't know." Spock hadn't offered specific details, and McCoy hadn't asked. There was no point in dwelling on the past. And as far as friendly breakups went, well, that was a completely foreign concept to him.

"That's to be expected. Spock isn't the most forthcoming person. And that's part of the reason why I left him."

That was…interesting. He'd heard a lot of things about Spock and Uhura and why their relationship fell apart—not that he'd cared at the time—but most of the rumors claimed Spock ended it because he was unable to deal with a relationship on top of his grief.

"So, what? You've come to warn me away? Tell me to get out while I still can?"

"I'm saying you should be careful. Spock isn't a bad guy, but he's Vulcan—"

"Really? I hadn't noticed," McCoy said dryly.

Uhura ignored his sarcasm and continued talking like he'd never interrupted. "—And that's not going to change. He's never going to be able to express things the way you are. That's a lot for any human to deal with. No matter how well you think you know him, you don't. And you probably never will."

"It's not like I'm great with the warm and fuzzy stuff, either. Look, Uhura, I appreciate what you're saying, but I'm a doctor, and—"

"_Really? I hadn't noticed,"_ she shot back with a roll of her eyes.

"—I can take care of myself." He stood up and gestured for her to do the same. "Now, if you need medical attention, I'm more than happy to help. But if we're done here, I have real work to do."

Uhura straightened her dress as she stood. "Think about what I said, okay? And be careful." A look of utter exhaustion settled over her features. "I think I'd like to see Nurse Chapel now."

McCoy made a vague gesture in the direction he'd seen Christine headed toward last. "Be my guest."

He sighed in relief when she left. Not that he disliked the lieutenant, but unwarranted relationship advice was so not how he wanted to spend his day. So, he resumed his paperwork, silently telling himself to forget about what she said.

A few minutes later, he had finally completed his report, and managed to banish most of Uhura's confrontation from his memory, when Nurse Chapel alerted him there was another patient to be seen.

Christ. These shore leave incidents were about to become an epidemic, by the looks of it. It was hard to believe there were trained officers aboard this goddamn ship. He was starting to feel as though he were working with a bunch of teenagers.

But when McCoy went to investigate, he discovered Spock was the one in Sickbay, rubbing his temples.

"Are you all right?" McCoy inquired, true concern lacing his tone. It was rare that Spock became afflicted with anything. He hoped it wasn't serious.

"My condition is less than optimal." Spock sounded weary, much how McCoy felt. "I'd like a private examination, if possible."

"Certainly." Panic bubbled in McCoy's chest. Spock was about the last person he'd expected to see down here, especially considering the talk that was floating around the ship today.

McCoy led him into an exam room, and closed the door behind them. "What's wrong?"

"It is nothing you cannot fix." Spock kissed him then, his lips urgent and intense.

Mind racing, McCoy pulled back for a second, gasping for breath. "You're not sick?"

"Not in the traditional sense of the word." Spock's hands roamed over his chest, traveling to his back, and underneath his shirt.

"You really want to do this right now?" Even as the words spilled out of his mouth, the voice in his head told him to shut the hell up and enjoy it. "Someone might hear. If you want this situation to blow over, this probably isn't the best course of action."

Spock tipped his head back, so they were eye to eye. "Leonard, I have had several conversations today. Too many, in fact. If there was ever a time to be silent, this is it."

He couldn't argue with that. They kissed again, and this time, McCoy didn't stop.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: So sorry for the delay! There's only one more chapter after this, and I'm hoping to get it up soon. Thank you so much for sticking with me!**

* * *

McCoy tugged his shirt back down, stretched out on the cool floor. His head fell to rest on Spock's lap. He knew he should leave now, but damn if he had any motivation to. This was too perfect to walk away from.

"Is something wrong, Leonard?"

A lazy half smile formed on his lips, a rush of excitement pouring through him. He tipped his head further up, gazing into those impossibly dark eyes. "Absolutely not. I forgot how intense this could be, is all."

Spock arched an eyebrow. "To what are you referring?"

"Falling in love."

"Fascinating." Both of Spock's eyebrows lifted this time. "You are experiencing this now."

"That's what I said."

"With me."

Maybe he shouldn't screw around right now, but the thought tempted him too much to let the opportunity slip. Doing his best to keep a straight face, he replied, "No, with Sulu."

Spock blinked.

McCoy burst out laughing. "Yes, with you! God, you're adorable, you know that?"

"I have heard that before." He shifted slightly, leaning further against the wall, his back ramrod straight.

McCoy disentangled himself from where he lay, swung his torso up so they were sitting side by side. "Something on your mind?"

"Leonard, I want you to know that my feelings for you," Spock paused long enough to run his fingers down the length of Leonard's, "they are…"

"Not lacking for depth?" More likely that he'd been planning to say they weren't logical, but it was nice to try for a new response. Lucky for McCoy, logic hadn't made an appearance in this particular conversation. The thought that perhaps it never would was of great appeal to him.

"Indeed." He exhaled a tiny bit deeper than usual. The expression was miniscule, and only noticeable if one were looking for it, which one happened to be doing at the moment.

"Things not going so well up there?" McCoy asked.

"It is nothing I cannot handle."

"Yeah, that's why we're holed up in an exam room, huh?" He shook his head in exasperation. "Jim is a goddamn idiot."

"The Captain is—"

"No, he's an idiot. A damn lovable one, don't get me wrong, but the kid's gotta learn to shut up sometimes. No matter. He'll get his. So, what brought you down here, exactly? You know, besides coming to jump my bones."

"Lieutenant Uhura spoke with you."

"She did. We had a little chat about what went wrong between the two of you. I'm pretty sure she gave me the abridged edition, though. Said something about leaving you for being a Vulcan, but I'm guessing that's not the whole story."

His silence was answer enough. "I have to go."

"Yeah." McCoy grabbed Spock's hand, brushed a soft kiss on the inside of his wrist. "I still gotta deal with Jim."

"You plan to exact revenge on him."

"You know what the Klingons say—revenge is a dish best served cold."

"Leonard, I hardly think following ancient Klingon proverbs is the wisest course of action."

"Huh-uh, no arguing." McCoy shut him up with a swift kiss. "This is something I gotta do, but no worries, you won't have to assume command of the Enterprise just yet. I'll leave all his faculties intact—most of them, anyway."

Straightening up, they made their entrance back into Sickbay proper, all businesslike. Once they were within Nurse Chapel's line of sight, McCoy turned on his heel, and threw his hands up at Spock. "Damn it, just because I don't understand what's in that green blood of yours doesn't mean there's nothing wrong. You can't just walk out of here."

"As I am feeling much better now, I believe this entire encounter has been rendered quite pointless. Excuse me." Spock clasped his hands behind his back, and turned to leave.

The attempt to fake normalcy was futile at best. Still, appearances were everything. And, even though he'd never admit it, he kind of missed arguing with Spock. Leave it to him to get the last word in, even while faking it. Some things never change.

Christine watched Spock walk away, the shadow of a grin twisting at her mouth. "I must say, I've never understood your bickering, but now—" She placed her hand over her mouth. "I get it now. Flirtation is a funny thing."

McCoy let out a sigh. Damn it, the hits just kept on coming. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're right. It's none of my business."

"Well, that's new." He started to walk away, trying to decide the best course of action for this Jim situation. Christine, however, wasn't finished. He should have known. When people said something was none of their business, they often had a peculiar habit of expressing their thoughts anyway.

"I don't know what Nyota said to you, exactly, but you have to know, she meant well."

McCoy stopped in his tracks. He gave Christine a wary glance, his curiosity piquing. "What do you know about her and Spock?"

"About as much as you, probably." She bit her lip, as though realizing the equation was now unbalanced, given his access to insider information, as it were. "She clearly still cares about him. If you're looking for details, I don't have them."

Well, then. "Nurse Chapel, I think this conversation has gone far enough."

"Doctor, there's no need to be embarrassed. I think everyone on this ship is at least a little bit in love with Mr. Spock."

"Oh, yeah? Why's that?" Like he didn't know.

Her expression took on a certain dreamy quality. "He's intelligent, enigmatic, and not so hard on the eyes, either. The living incarnation of tall, dark, and mysterious. That amount of mystery could take an entire lifetime to solve. And the fact that he's not exactly falling all over every person he meets, unlike someone else we know, well, one could only hope to be the individual capable of breaking through that shield of logic and indifference."

"You're a very insightful woman, Christine," McCoy said finally. Maybe he didn't give her enough credit. Like everyone else, she had an opinion. He didn't much feel like shooting her up after hearing it, and that was saying something.

"I try. Good day, Doctor."

His next stop was Engineering. If anyone asked, he planned to give some excuse about checking up on Scotty, lest they go run and blab to Jim. God forbid anyone keep a secret in this damn place, and losing the element of surprise was not something McCoy was willing to do. Not today.

"Hold this," Scotty said by way of greeting when McCoy arrived, shoving some tool into his hand.

"I'm a doctor, not an engineer."

"You want to stay down here, you're an engineer. A patient is a patient, Doctor, whether it's got nacelles or nipples."

Interesting choice of words. "Yeah, well, if you dropped by Sickbay to chat, I wouldn't exactly be handing you a scalpel."

Scotty finished with whatever it was he'd been doing, took the tool back from McCoy. "The Captain sent you down here to check on me, is that it? I told him, two hours is the best I can do. I didn't make up the laws of physics, and I can't break them, either."

"What? No. I'm here because some people might say you owe me one."

"I take it you'd be one of them."

"Damn straight. Look, it's like this." He filled him in on the details.

At the end, Scotty looked amused but skeptical. "What's keeping me from going to the Captain with this information?"

"Oh, I don't know. The desire to keep your medical records confidential, and the will to live—to name a few." He was bluffing, of course. He was a doctor, not a savage. Not like it mattered too much, a little persuasion went a long way.

Scotty nodded quickly. "It's done."

McCoy couldn't stop the grin that overcame him. Jim Kirk wasn't going to know what hit him.

* * *

Sequestered inside Jim's quarters, McCoy resisted the urge to laugh while he waited. Scotty had come through him on the first part of the plan, time to see if he'd gone ahead with the rest. The sound of water came from the other room, and with that, the loudest scream ever heard from a grown man.

McCoy ran into the bathroom. Jim stumbled out of the shower, dripping wet, and stark naked. He glared at McCoy, his shoulders still shaking from the iciness that had just been forced upon him. "You did this."

"I did." Denying it was not part of this plan. Credit where credit is due, he figured, and, hell, he wanted it all.

"What the hell is your problem?" Jim shouted.

Raising an eyebrow, McCoy snapped a photo. "My God, I can't believe you even have to ask that. Why don't you just go ask the whole goddamn ship what my problem is? Oh, wait, there's no need. 'Cause you're the one who told them in the first place!"

"So, I screwed up. But this, and I know you didn't do it alone, it's low, Bones. Really low." Underneath his irritation, a flicker of amusement was noticeable. Someday they'd laugh about this.

"I'm sure anyone would sympathize with me at this point." He tossed Jim a towel. It was impossible to be angry with someone when they were naked. It was too ridiculous. "Look, I love you to death, but I swear to God, if you ever screw with me again—" He held up the camera—"I'll make sure all of Starfleet sees this. Got it?"

"Yeah."

"Good." He left then. Once Jim was out of earshot, though, he let himself have a nice, long laugh over the whole thing. The Klingons were right. Revenge really was best when it was cold.

* * *

Usually, turning off his mind was not such a difficult thing for Spock to do. The calmness that surrounded him was a welcome guest after a long day. But tonight it did not come so easily.

His earlier conversation with Leonard burned bright within his mind, specifically the phrase _falling in love._ An illogical statement at best, and one that held quite negative connotations, at that. There was nothing romantic about the idea of falling. It implied that one must eventually come crashing down. Although perhaps it was perfectly logical, given the amount of people whose love affairs seemed to end in pain.

It was hard for him to say for sure, because love was such a difficult concept for Vulcans. It was not logical. Yet it was there, within him, a mere whisper. He could suppress it, but he couldn't rid himself of it completely.

Which was unfortunate. He'd never told his mother he'd loved her, even when he wanted to. Now he'd never get the chance. Not feeling it had to be better than suffering with it, alone. He never told Nyota he loved her, either. At this point, the words were unlikely to leave his mouth at all.

Reliving his past did not appeal to Spock. How long would Leonard stick around if his sentiments were not returned? Long enough, but not forever, if past experiences were anything to go on.

Spock felt no closer to peace when Leonard arrived to see him. Still, his calm façade did not waver. His appearance was the living incarnate of serene. Or so he assumed.

"What's wrong?" Leonard wrapped his arms around Spock's waist. His grip was loose but it was filled with reassurance he couldn't possibly know was needed.

"Nothing is wrong."

"Don't bullshit me. I can see it."

He raised an eyebrow. "How?" No one could see it; otherwise they wouldn't all assume he felt nothing. He'd never been an open book, least of all to humans.

McCoy pressed his fingers against Spock's spine. "All this tension here, for one. Then, when you took a breath a second ago, the pressure was off. Like you're trying to avoid moving a cracked rib, or something. And your left eyebrow twitched."

"It did not."

"Oh, I assure you, it did."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Whatever." There was the slightest hint of a smile on Leonard's face. He bit his lip for a second, then widened his eyes. The figurative light bulb moment. "This is about what I said earlier."

Spock shifted out of his grasp. "I was not expecting such a declaration."

"You're not the only one." He sighed. "Look, it's nothing to freak out about. I can't be held accountable for the things I say half the time, let alone when I'm with you. Forget it."

"Are you rescinding the statement?"

"I'm rescinding any pressure you might feel to respond, that's all. Hell, they're just words." He cupped his hands around Spock's face. "Let's shut up now. You seem to be a big fan of that."

Indeed he was. McCoy kissed him full on the lips, and for a moment, everything slid away. But when they broke apart a few seconds later, Spock decided to get the last word in. "My eyebrow did not twitch."

"Yes, it did. For about a millisecond, at most."

"That is hardly enough to time for human eyes to perceive."

"Hey, now. Just 'cause you didn't feel yourself do it, doesn't mean it didn't happen. I'm a perceptive guy, Spock. I see things. I see you."

On this they could both agree. Leonard was perceptive, perhaps a bit too much. Although if he was this good at it, then Spock's inability to express his feelings as plainly as others could might not be their downfall after all.

He parted his lips to speak once again, but before he could, Leonard said, "My God, Spock, forget about your goddamn eyebrows. I think I liked it better when we weren't talking at all." And he kissed him again.

This time, Spock was in such agreement with Leonard, he had no desire to argue with him whatsoever.


	6. Chapter 6

** The end is here. Thank you so much to everyone who's taken the time to read this! **

* * *

_A few weeks later…_

It was time for shore leave again, and McCoy was more than ready to beam down for a drink and some air that wasn't recycled. His other half, however, wasn't too keen on the idea. And that proposed a problem, because McCoy didn't relish the idea of taking leave without Spock.

It wasn't that he was afraid to face the crew, or anything like that. The gossip had died down, for the most part, ever since Scotty and Uhura had gotten caught kissing in the transporter room. The spotlight had shifted pretty quick after that, and McCoy and Spock's relationship was no longer breaking news, thank God.

So, it wasn't fear that made him reluctant to leave without Spock. Hell, a star could go supernova and he'd take it in stride, at this point. The problem was, he didn't see much use in having fun if Spock wasn't there to benefit. No amount of alcohol and fresh air could compare to the companionship he'd recently grown accustomed to.

"You have to go," McCoy insisted as he changed into street clothes. He was headed for the transport room after this, but Spock had made it clear he intended to hole up in the lab for the foreseeable future. Goddamn workaholic.

"Your terminology implies it is not optional."

"That's because it isn't." Jim had, once again, imposed a mandatory shore leave. Why anyone would refuse leave at all was beyond him.

"As I am still standing on the ship with no intention of departing, it clearly is."

"Come on. The last shore leave wasn't so bad, was it? And you didn't want to take that one, either. But it all worked out in the end." Though his words suggested frustration, McCoy was feeling downright gleeful at the moment. Goddamn, he loved these arguments. Winning, which he knew he would, was merely the icing on the cake.

"You suggest history repeats itself."

"What if I could promise you that it will? In the _best sense_, of course."

"The concept is not unappealing."

"Yeah, I didn't think so either. So, how 'bout this: I go down there, make an excuse for you so Jim doesn't freak out too much. Then I'll come back up here so we can spend some quality time together."

"A compromise." There was a slight lilt to his words that almost sounded like surprise.

"Do you accept? Or am I gonna have to drag you by your hair?"

"That sounds quite primitive."

"Well, if you're into that kind of thing…" Several ideas sprung to mind, none of which sounded bad at all.

"As you wish. I will be here when you return. Ready to…take my leave, as it were."

"I'm counting on that." McCoy shrugged into his jacket. "Now, tell me the truth, does this outfit look ridiculous?" It was all brown leather, and made him feel like he should be starring in some sort of old western movie.

"Negative."

"Really?"

"Leonard." Spock closed the distance between them, ran his fingers across the Doctor's ensemble. "That outfit is a great many things. However, none of them hold negative connotations."

"You could just be saying that."

"I do not lie."

Wasn't that the goddamn truth. And, judging by the way Spock's eyes were practically glued to his chest right now, he wasn't about to start. McCoy couldn't help himself; this moment was too perfect. He crushed his lips against Spock's.

And it was like someone sucked the air out of the room. There this was this gap inside his chest that seemed to get wider and smaller all in the same moment, and, God, he couldn't form a coherent thought. Really, he didn't need to, because this, right now, was more than enough.

Enraptured in the intensity of the moment, he pushed Spock down on the bed, the rest of the world ceasing to exist. He looped his fingers around the waistband of Spock's pants, the entire concept of shore leave a distant memory, but then Spock rolled away from him.

"Don't make me stop."

"You are running quite late." It was a reasonable statement. A little too reasonable, in fact. Although Spock's tone wasn't as clipped as usual.

"You know, I could stay here instead." He'd get an earful about it later, sure, but right now it seemed a small price to pay.

"I believe we have already established the fact that you cannot."

He rolled his eyes at having his own words thrown back in his face, but he knew Spock was right. Leaving now would only make things sweeter in the next few hours. It wasn't possible to miss someone without spending time apart from them. He knew that, and yet he already felt the separation despite it not having happened yet. "You are such a goddamn tease."

"It's only logical." Spock climbed off the bed, and straightened up.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Evidence suggests sexual encounters are more satisfying when one has to wait for them." Okay, so maybe that was true, but he didn't have to sound so smug about it.

McCoy shook his head, unsure of whether he should laugh or just say screw it all and insist on finishing this right now. "I can't even with you," he finally said, the hint of a smile threatening to overtake his expression.

"I do not understand what that means."

McCoy dismissed him with a wave of his hand, stood up, and tried to compose himself. Damn these tight pants. "All right, I'm going now. Happy?"

Spock lifted an eyebrow. "I never said I wanted you to leave."

If this was how he showed disappointment, McCoy couldn't wait to see what begging him to stay would look like. "So, I'll see you later, then?"

A beat of silence passed, and then Spock said, "I'll walk with you."

Now it was McCoy's turn to feel smug. He knew he had an effect on Spock, but it was rare to see it manifest like that. It was nice, really, to feel wanted and know he'd be missed, even for a short period of time.

They made their way down the hall, which was quieter than usual, at a somewhat languid pace. Inside the lift, McCoy kissed Spock once more, but the doors slid open before he could get much further than that. _Later_, he promised himself. Later couldn't come soon enough, that was for damn sure.

When they entered the transporter room, McCoy turned to face Spock. "Okay, well, just comm me if you need help."

"Leonard, I am a science officer. I assure you, I can handle my work alone."

"It's a euphemism, Spock. Kind of like the one you used earlier."

Spock looked somewhat miffed by the notion. A second later, he nodded. "Indeed."

"You know, I have a life too," said the lone redshirt currently manning the transporter room. "For now, anyway. And I'd like to get back to it, so either stay or go, but stop flirting and pick one."

Good God. Someone needed to get laid. Glaring at the redshirt, McCoy pressed his fingertips against Spock's in farewell, and then, defying every desire that warred within his mind, he stepped onto the transporter pad, and said, "Energize."

When he rematerialized on the planet's surface, there was a hollow ache within him, which he tried to shove away, with little success. The bar he walked into was crowded, probably because he'd taken so long in getting here. He found a secluded spot at the side of the bar, and sat down. An hour or so of relaxation should be plenty, and then he could get back to the place he really wanted to be.

"What'll it be then?" the bartender asked.

He never got a chance to answer.

"A shot of Jack, for the both of us." Jim sat beside McCoy, flashing him an easy grin.

Surprise filled McCoy. He and Jim hadn't been hanging out much recently, for obvious reasons. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you're trying to get me drunk."

"Always." Jim handed him his shot, clinked their glasses together. "Cheers, Bones."

McCoy took the shot, but it didn't quite ease the wariness that crept along his spine. "So, what brought about this change of heart? All I've heard out of you for the past couple weeks are orders."

"I've been a dick." Jim nodded to the bartender, earning them both another drink. "Truth is, I always kind of thought that if either you or Spock went for anyone on the Enterprise, it would be me."

McCoy laughed. "You would think that."

"This whole thing caught me by surprise, is all. And then I was pissed at you for the shower malfunction. I'd have done the same in your shoes, though. Hell, I might've done worse. So, I guess what I'm trying to say is, I'm sorry. Time to let bygones be bygones, and all that."

"Here, here." McCoy drained his glass, more than happy to accept the apology.

"You're going to get rid of that picture, right?"

"Consider it done." Not on his life. That shit was priceless.

"Great. I'm really glad we had this talk." Jim glanced around. His expression sharpened. "Where's Spock?"

"Working, unfortunately." About a second after the words left his mouth, he remembered he was supposed to make an excuse for Spock. He cleared his throat. "On real urgent stuff that couldn't wait, of course." One quick glance showed him that Jim didn't buy it for a second. And now McCoy couldn't remember why he ever thought he would.

Jim shook his head, sighing in defeat, disappointment, or both. "I thought I made it clear that everyone was required to take shore leave."

"Did you _order_ him to take leave?"

"Not in so many words."

"Well, there you go."

"I just figured you'd take care of getting him down here."

"Damn it, Jim, I'm a doctor, not a miracle worker. And I'm not his goddamn keeper. Besides, I'm going back up to the ship in a bit, and I assure you, he won't be doing any work." Not in the official sense of the word, anyway.

Jim made a face. "Okay, I'm going to need another drink. And maybe some brain bleach."

"Better order that in bulk, 'cause this isn't going away."

The Captain's expression softened. "All right, give it to me straight. Are you happy?"

He didn't even have to think about it. "There aren't words to describe how I've been feeling lately. Better than I have in a long time, that's for sure. That pointy-eared bastard stole my goddamn heart, and I couldn't even begin to tell you how it happened." A smile stretched over his face, bliss radiating within him. "So, yeah, I think I am."

"Good." Jim acquired more drinks, which disappeared even faster than the last round. "You know, if you hurt him, I'll have to kill you."

"Me? What makes you think he won't break _my_ heart?"

"Then I guess I'll have kill him, too."

"I appreciate the sentiment but I'm pretty sure he could take you." The statement was something of a lie, since he had no doubt that Spock could, in fact, kick Jim's ass. Still, he had to let the man have his pride.

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

"Somehow, I don't think it's going to." It's not like he was psychic, or anything, but he couldn't deny the gut feeling that told him this was going somewhere. Right now, that's all he needed.

* * *

Spock couldn't deny the emptiness that swarmed within his chest once McCoy left. For a moment, he didn't move at all. His eyes stayed locked on the empty transporter pad, and the eyes of the testy redshirt remained fastened on him. The silence between them was almost palpable.

He wasn't entirely sure why he was so reluctant to leave right now. It wasn't like Leonard was coming back right away, although part of him wished he would. The solution to that was simple: he could follow. There was always work to do, but it didn't have to be done tonight. Refusing shore leave was more a habit than anything else; an opportunity to seize the solitude he reveled in. So, why did he feel as though it would now swallow him whole?

Turning to leave, Spock caught a glimpse of Lieutenant Uhura walking down the hall. Her pace was languid, and when their eyes met, she beckoned for him to join her.

"Hello, Nyota."

"Hey." She smiled. "How are you?"

"Adequate."

"Not taking leave tonight?"

"I could ask you the same question," Spock said.

"Oh, well, Scotty got slammed with a bunch of work. You know how the Captain can be about that."

"Indeed." Jim's frequent suggestions that Mr. Scott do the impossible were not at all logical, but somehow, the engineer always found a way to pull it off.

"So, anyway, I'm going to take him dinner soon, and keep him company."  
"That's thoughtful of you."

"It's the least I can do." She pressed a finger to her lips, a playful look overtaking her features. "Let me guess, you're working too."

"Affirmative."

She glanced toward the end of the hallway, as though contemplating an exit. Instead she stayed rooted in place. Her expression warmed. "You look really happy right now. It's nice to see."

Why did everyone suddenly presume to know the extent of his feelings? He couldn't even put them into words half the time, and yet Leonard was able to translate them, and now Nyota, as well. It was not logical. In fact, he was tempted to call it infuriating, except that would mean admitting frustration, which he was not experiencing. Not at all.

"You're glowing," she said by way of explanation.

He stiffened. "I do not glow."

"Yeah, you do." Something unidentifiable sparkled inside her dark eyes. "It's okay, Spock. I'm glad things are going well for you. We've both moved on, and that's good. Just…" She bit her lip. "If this relationship is what you really want, don't be afraid to admit that. Hang on to this, no matter what it takes."

"Nyota, I…" Words evaded him. He had no desire to let this relationship fall by the wayside. That didn't mean it wouldn't happen. Experience had taught him that much.

"You'll figure it out. I know you will." She laid a tentative hand on his forearm. "We should do this more often."

He lifted an eyebrow. "Unexpectedly meet in the corridor so you can give me unsolicited advice?" The words themselves sounded somewhat contemptuous when voiced like that. However, Nyota must not have taken it as such, because she laughed.

"I meant we should talk more. I miss this." She flashed him another smile. "Now, I've kept you long enough. Have a good night."

After returning the farewell, Spock walked away, not entirely sure about what had just occurred. So unsure, that he spent the rest of the night thinking about it while he worked.

It wasn't that things had ever been bad between him and Uhura. It was more that they stopped being anything. After the tragedy on Vulcan, he withdrew even further into himself than before. Nothing seemed to help, and Nyota had simply drifted away.

He did nothing to stop it.

The last thing she said to him before leaving on the final morning they spent together was, "_If we're meant to be, we'll find each other again_."

The statement was so illogical; he hadn't even tried to form a response. He wasn't destined to be with anyone, except perhaps T'Pring, and obviously not because she was dead, and he was still here. Not to mention, another survivor who'd known her claimed she'd wanted very little to do with him, if anything at all.

Fate was clearly not a factor, at least not in this situation. Nyota was happy now. Spock was…not unhappy. Still broken, maybe, but no longer shattered.

He'd told Leonard all of these things, in fractured pieces here and there. None of them had sent him running. And when Leonard told Spock all the details of his past, he hadn't been inspired to cut and run, either.

So, perhaps this relationship wasn't destined, per se. It was _something_, though. Something that felt akin to having a gamma-ray burst occur in the center of his chest, and it would _not_ go away, no matter how long he meditated, or how many times he tried to suppress it.

Regret was an emotion Spock did not wish to feel again. More than once, he'd considered he was fated to be alone. But, as the events of last year proved to him, fate had the potential to change.

His communicator beeped. "Spock here."

"Get to your quarters _stat_," McCoy said. And that was the extent of their conversation.

It didn't take him long to comply. When he arrived, a very glassy-eyed doctor was waiting for him.

"Are you drunk?" Spock inquired.

Leonard pinched two fingers together, smirking slightly. "Little bit."

"I do not believe that is possible. You either are or you are not."

"Then, yeah, I am." Reaching out, he grabbed Spock's shirt and reeled him in. "Did you miss me?"

"Your absence was noted."

"Good, 'cause I missed the hell out of you."

They stumbled into the room, a tangle of lips and limbs as they fell back on to the bed, their clothes coming off in quick succession.

"I love this." Leonard traced his lips along the hollow of Spock's throat. A pause, and then he said, in a tone not as confident as usual, "And you."

Spock lay perfectly still, not even daring to take a breath. The burst of light and warmth in his chest returned. It threatened to consume him, but the feeling was not altogether negative. He knew what it was and more than anything wanted to express it.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have said anything," McCoy said quickly.

"No, it is quite all right." Despite being unable to say the words, Spock could still express his feelings. He could give Leonard something he didn't hand out freely: the thing that got them into this situation in the first place.

"May I try something?" he asked, pulling away from the embrace.

Leonard laughed. "You don't gotta ask. I'm lying here, naked in bed with you. I'd say that means I'm pretty much down for anything."

"Very well." He straightened up, and motioned for Leonard to do the same so they were facing each other.

He traced his fingers along the edge of Leonard's jaw, then across his cheekbone, until finally bringing them to rest at the meld points. Very slowly, he pressed his lips to Leonard's. He held back for a second, keeping things rather chaste. Once he parted his lips, his control peeled away, layer by layer. There was a languid spark rolling up his spine, a heat burning in his blood that grew more intense by the second. Closing his eyes, he let go of everything, allowing their minds to be one and together.

* * *

A thousand feelings no language could ever hope to translate flowed between them, as well as perfect clarity. In that moment, Leonard McCoy knew both everything he needed to know, and a few things he never realized he needed at all.


End file.
